Closest to Heaven That I'll Ever Be
by TheGirlWhoSawImagination
Summary: Their meeting wasn't supposed to happen, but for once the Fates lost control of two strings. Percy was thirteen years old, sick with a rare disease and receiving treatment for it. Luke was fourteen, on the run and trying to escape the gods. Yet, just one meeting changed the course of fate itself, after all, love knows no boundaries. AU. Sick! Older! Percy. Slash! Lukercy. Pre-TLT.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I only own the plot. Any characters you recognize belong to Rick Riordan.**

 **A/N: Does anybody know where the title came from? If you do, you get brownie points. And no searching it up! Put it in your review or something if you know. Anyways, I know I have another story, but I really wanted to write this one after a stroke of magnificent inspiration. I also know Perce is way older than canon, but I didn't want him to be three years younger, or canon age. No romance, then! This means Sally is also older than canon, but the same events of her parents dying and etc. happened. One more thing 'fore I go, below is a list of songs that I suggest you listen to, though it's empty currently. So, enjoy!**

 **Playlist (so far): None as of yet.**

 _ **~Closest to Heaven That I'll Ever Be~**_

 _ **~Prologue~**_

A mother always knew when something was wrong with her child, and Sally Jackson was no exception.

The young mother was currently sitting at her six year old son's side in a hospital as he slept somewhat peacefully, though just a few short hours before he had been anything but peaceful. Her blue eyes held nothing but extreme concern and love, and she was on the verge of crying. She was a mother who knew something was very wrong with her son, but she didn't have enough answers to know how to help him, and that was the worst kind of knowledge a mother could have.

They had been walking through Central Park when it happened. Percy had been laughing and running around, to her amusement and at one point he wanted to go into the water, and though she told him he couldn't she had been laughing to herself mentally. He was definitely his father's son, though she did not think of that topic much, only when she had another insomnia attack.

However, all of the sudden Percy had stopped dead in his tracks and his eyes had widened. Concerned and slightly frightened, Sally caught up to the six year old as quickly as she could and asked what was wrong. When he didn't respond to her she asked again in a more scared tone, and that was when he fell to the ground and started to cry, and she could just barely make out the words 'stomach ache' and 'back hurts'. Her own eyes widening in shock at the sudden 'attack', as it seemed to be, she picked up her son and asked loudly for someone to call an ambulance.

The next few hours had been a blur, to be honest. She had held Percy's hand as he moaned in agony, and two times the pain had caused him to vomit. The doctors and nurses had come and went, taking blood and talked to her about once the attack subsided, they would do a CAT scan and a MRI. However, the attack didn't stop. Percy continued to be in pain, and even pain medication wasn't helping. All but one of the doctors were baffled, and that one doctor, Doctor Lichtenberg had decided to do one more blood test when the rest came up negative. That had been two hours ago, and shortly after Percy finally went to sleep due to exhaustion, though every once in a while he would toss and turn, showing that the pain had not subsided as of yet.

The sound of the door opening stopped Sally's musings and she snapped her head up as Lichtenberg came in. Though she wasn't sure, she had a feeling that the man was a demigod. He took one look at Percy's sleeping form before running a hand through his hair and letting out a sigh. "Ms. Jackson," he began as he sat down, but she cut him off.

"Did you find anything?" she asked desperately.

The doctor offered her a small smile, though it was strained. "We did, but I need to ask a few questions in order to confirm the diagnosis. Have you or anybody in your family ever suffered from porphyria, any type?"

Sally blinked. Porphyria. She was brought to another time in her memories, when her mother had been lying on the sofa, sick, for up to weeks at a time and for seemingly no reason. At one point, she had asked her father what was wrong with her, and he had responded that her mother was sick with a rare disease, porphyria. Acute Imminent Porphyria, to be exact. "Yes," she replied uneasily. "My mother had it."

Lichtenberg nodded, before continuing. "What about Percy's father? Does he have any family that you know of that has porphyria, or did he himself have it?"

She froze in her seat at this. After a few moments, she firmly said, "No. He never got sick, really. Always healthy, and his family was the same way."

The doctor raised an eyebrow at this, before taking another look at Percy, who had turned onto his side and was shaking ever so slightly. He turned back to Sally, blue eyes looking at her expectantly. "Ms. Jackson, is your son a demigod?" the question was so simple, and his tone of voice revealed that he knew the answer to what he had just said, no matter what she would reply.

"Yes," she replied, once again uneasily.

Lichtenberg let out another sigh. "I thought so," he said, losing all the formalities that he had done before. "Ms. Jackson, you have confirmed my diagnosis of ALAD Deficiency Porphyria, or Aminolevulinic Acid Dehydratase Deficiency Porphyria. It often mimics Acute Imminent Porphyria, in the sense of symptoms such as stomach pains, and nausea and vomiting in attacks that often last for days or weeks at a time. It's a result of extremely low levels of the ALA dehydratase enzyme. I'm going to take a guess and say that your mother did not have Acute Imminent Porphyria, instead ALAD, as this is genetic and because of its rarity, is often mistaken as AIP."

"How rare is it?" she asked, trying to calm her nerves at the information she had just been given. Her baby boy, her son, diagnosed with _**porphyria**_? But he was a demigod! Poseidon had said that most severe mortal illnesses he wouldn't get because of his godly heritage! Why did the Fates decide Percy deserved to be sick for the rest of his life, anyways? Her mother had never been completely well when she was still alive, often doing her best to eat foods high in carbohydrates to stop the attacks, but it usually didn't work. Images and thoughts of Percy constantly in pain because of this disease flew through her mind, and in all honesty, terrified her.

"Fewer than ten cases have ever been reported," Lichtenberg replied, running a hand through his hair again. "You know how awful this disease is, Ms. Jackson, having seen your mother have it. Percy, though he is a demigod, will experience things that normal mortals and demigods won't ever experience. His godly blood would usually make sure porphyria would be dormant, and it would be his grandchildren that would get it instead of him. But for some reason, his godly blood failed in this protection."

"What can we do?"

"This is the tricky part. Normally, I would suggest that he take medication for it, but a demigod taking this kind of mortal medication is dangerous. Ambrosia and nectar won't work either, in fact they might just make the pain worse if he has it during an attack. He should have a diet with plenty of foods in high carbohydrates and I would recommend that he get blood transfusions every few months or so; I can give you a list of places that offer treatment for porphyria in the form of blood transfusions."

Sally nodded. "That would be useful. . . . But what about him being a demigod? He can't just simply fight monsters off during an attack."

"Most monsters won't attack him," Lichtenberg explained. "They will view him as sickly, and so they won't want to attack him. A terminally sick demigod, in the sense their illness can't be cured, is a safe demigod. However, you will have the occasional monster, so it may be handy for him to carry a weapon at all times. I know somebody who can help you out with that, though he will probably offer stealing a weapon in particular rather than making one." Both adults chuckled in amusement at this, even if one was still scared. The doctor stood up. "Well, I'll go get that list for you. Percy will probably need to stay here for another week or so, or at least he will be released a day after the pain subsides." And with that he left.

Sally turned back to look at her son, softly brushing messy black hair out of his face. Percy whimpered slightly at the pain and kicked his legs a little bit, but he didn't wake up. She frowned. He reminded her of her mother, Laura Jackson, before she died in an airplane accident when Sally was five. She was scared that he would constantly be in pain, never allowed to live life like a normal child should. Would childhood happiness really be taken away from him in the blink of an eye, just like that?

In the end, Sally Jackson was a mother. A mother who silently promised that she was going to do her best to make sure her son had the best childhood that he could, porphyria or no.

* * *

It was Christmas, two years after that fateful day both mother and son had their lives changed forever.

Percy was eight now, and in all honesty he acted just like it, or at least as close as it could get for a kid with a rare disease. On more than one occasion Sally found his room to be a complete mess because he thought that something was a brilliant idea, or that he had caused trouble somewhere while she wasn't looking. It was relieving for him to act as such, but just as easily obnoxious. Often, she wondered if he would ever run out of energy so she could catch a break and not be exhausted when she went to bed. Unfortunately, that was never the case.

But he still got attacks. Every other month or so, he would be bedridden or lying on the couch in agony, hardly able to keep any food down as pain came from his stomach, back, chest, and limbs. Still, this didn't seem to stop him from being energetic and happy as soon as the attack was over and after some much needed painless sleeping.

A lot had changed in two years. For one, Sally published two books, one pure fiction and the other a journal for mothers of children that had porphyria. Both were extremely successful, allowing her and Percy to move out of the city and to a good-sized house in a small town and for her to be able to homeschool him after the attacks led him to be unable to attend school often enough. That and the fact that he constantly got into trouble at school anyways, so it was a win-win situation, seeing as he always seemed eager to learn when she was teaching him.

She'd worked hard to make sure he had a good education. She studied his dyslexia and then changed books so that he would be able to read them. Math problems were no longer that hard as she made them fit real life. His favorite subject, though, was social studies and his favorite topic was Ancient Greece, even if she hadn't yet told him about his father or the Greek gods.

Still, today was Christmas. Sally woke up early and got herself something to eat, put the presents under the Christmas tree, and started to make breakfast for the eight year old boy who probably didn't go to bed until midnight, as he was too excited for Christmas. It was eleven in the morning currently, which only fueled her suspicions.

The sound of footsteps caused her to look up from what she was currently cooking, and a smile formed as Percy walked in, rubbing his eyes sleepily in a childlike fashion. He sat down at his usual spot and she put hash browns and blue pancakes onto his plate, both of the foods high in carbohydrates, and his usual breakfast. "Good morning and Merry Christmas, Percy," she greeted her son and ruffled his hair, causing him to lightly push her hand away.

"Morning, Mom. Merry Christmas," he replied before wolfing down his breakfast, and she chuckled very quietly in amusement.

Twenty minutes and cleaning the dishes later, they had settled in the living room. The TV was turned on and was playing the same movie over and over again since it had turned midnight, _**A Christmas Story**_. However, Sally noticed something strange. While before there had been quite a few presents, now there were _**more**_ of them, and she realized that it had to be one person in particular. Today would be the day that she had been dreading ever so slightly, she realized.

Still, she wasn't going to let it ruin her mood, or Percy's mood. So, he began to tear into his presents while she went at a much slower pace, and not causing wrapping paper to fly everywhere. Kids and wrapping paper, oh the horror! Percy looked up at her at one point, holding a newly translated book in his hands. Grinning, he said, "Thanks, Mom! I've been wanting to read this!"

A son of Poseidon loving books, probably even more than a child of Athena. Well, it wasn't the craziest idea in the universe, but she supposed to most it would most certainly be strange.

Most of the gifts she got him were books, but there was also the occasional movie or toy, such as a water gun, which Sally had no doubt was going to cause her to have some very angry neighbors the coming summer when Percy wasn't laying on the couch, as heat seemed to be a factor that helped cause attacks. Which was why even if it was in the middle of winter the AC was going and the house temperature was almost always forty degrees. Sweaters weren't as bad as him being in pain, though.

Finally, there were only a handful of presents left, and Percy reached for the smallest one, tore off the paper and opened the box, to reveal a bronze colored ballpoint pen. Curious, he looked up at her. "A pen?" he asked.

Sally shook her head. "It's not from me, Percy. It's from your father."

"My dad? But wasn't he lost out at sea?"

"In a way, yes. Percy, you have to understand, your father didn't want to leave, but he had to. I couldn't tell you what really happened to him, but the pen will help me explain it to you, I bet. Uncap it."

And so he did. Immediately, the pen turned into a beautiful, gleaming bronze sword that was almost leaf-shaped in a way. Percy's eyes widened comically, and he began to inspect it. There was something written on the hilt, and he read it out loud, "Anaklusmos. Riptide. Mom, this is a sword. A Greek sword."

She smiled. "Yes. Percy, the Ancient Greeks you love so much? They're more connected to you then most people could ever possibly imagine. They may be history, but one thing has survived since them. The gods." She cast a glance out the window, silently praying that she wouldn't be struck down. "Zeus. Hera. Apollo. Artemis—all of them exist. Demigods exist as well, of course. You're father left, not because of a business trip, but because he wasn't allowed to stay as he's a god."

Percy scowled slightly. "A god? Then why couldn't he help you, Mom? Why didn't he come when I was pain? When we needed the money? Why? If he's a god, surely he could've done _**something**_!"

Sally shook her head. "It's not that simple. The gods have laws that prevent them from visiting their own children. Percy, I know your father wishes he could visit you, I know he wishes that he could've been there when the doctors diagnosed you with porphyria. This is his way of saying he's always been there, and telling you who he really is. Don't be mad at him for something that not even he can control."

His scowl vanished, and she resisted the urge to smile. She knew that the resentment hadn't gone away, after all, it wouldn't be that simple to let go the anger he had had at Poseidon since he was six. He wouldn't be able to forgive his father easily, but at least Percy knew the real reason why his father couldn't be there for him.

"Are there others like me?" Percy asked.

She frowned for a moment, before replying, "Yes, Percy, there are others like you in the sense that they're demigods. There's even a camp, but no, Percy," she caught his excited expression, "You can't go there. It's not in Montana or someplace where it's constantly cool. You'd be facing a constant summer, constant heat, and constant pain. None of them have porphyria, so they don't have the need for coldness," she paused, not sure if she should tell him this or not, "Their godly blood protects them from most mortal diseases like porphyria and cancer."

"Then why doesn't mine?" he questioned, looking troubled with this information.

Sally took in a deep breath. "I don't know, Percy. I have many theories about it, but I don't think I'll ever be able to say for sure. Maybe your godly blood brought out the genes that I gave to you, maybe it was just simply genetics. But it doesn't matter. Though I don't think monsters will hardly ever attack you, Riptide will protect you if they ever do. I don't mean for this to be a bad thing, but the fact that you have ALAD will probably stop almost all monsters from trying to kill you. You're sick, and that means you're protected."

Percy's troubled look increased, causing Sally to wish that she hadn't said anything about his illness and godly blood, but she knew it would've come up either way eventually. Better to tell him now than for him to find out later. He looked down at his new sword, before he said something that truly surprised her. "I'm not sick," the words came out of his mouth in a defiant tone. "I just have a disease that hurts me, but I'm not sick. If anything, I'm stronger than most for putting up with the pain. That's all. And if any monsters attack me, then I'll make sure they get hell for it."

She didn't reprimand him for his language. Instead, Sally smiled. He was a son of Poseidon alright, with his rebellious "streak". And he was right. He wasn't sick because he tried his best not to let ALAD ruin his life, which couldn't be said the same for some people. So the rest of their Christmas day was spent watching _**A Christmas Story**_ over and over again and at one point having a wrapping-paper-ball fight. Of course, said wrapping paper wasn't picked up until about a week later.

But Percy made a silent promise to himself, a promise to never let ALAD Deficiency Porphyria ruin his life. He was going to do what he wanted when he was healthy, and when he had his attacks he had them, simple as that.

 **A/N: Wow, okay. This is a lot shorter than my usual chapters, to be honest, but I'm really happy with it. So, what did ya'll think? Honestly, I really want to know about this story. I wanted to make a sick Percy story for a while now, but cancer is overused. So, why not porphyria? Which reminds me, below this normal rambling, I'll have one or two questions that I want to see how many of you guys know without looking it up. Including my first one up above, I have two more:**

 **Question 2: What does Lichtenberg mean and how is it used in scientific terms today?**

 **Question 3: What is another name for porphyria in medieval times and currently?**

 **This should be fun, I honestly have no idea. No, you don't have to answer the questions but if you know them then I would like it if you would. Another thing I want to mention is the fact that this is following canon in the sense of what is going on with Luke. When we meet him, he'll be almost fourteen (two weeks away). I'm trying my best with my dates here, but I honestly suck at dates. So, I'm sorry about that.**

 **One more thing I need to clear up: will Percy go to camp anytime soon? No. He won't be going to camp in the near future. I don't need him to, and like said before, it's constant summer at camp, and he can't be around heat for too long without constant pain attacks.**

 **As for my other story, Of the Night, I'm still working on it. However, each time I try to save it my computer has decided to make sure the stuff I just wrote is not available in the recovery. So, I keep on having to redo the same chapter over and over again—Groundhog Day, anyone?**

 **So, review please! I don't usually ask this, but this is that one story that I have no idea if people will like or not. Flames aren't accepted, and I shall make sure Percy puts them out!**

 **See ya'll for the first official chapter!**


	2. Rewrite

**Yes, I know how stupid this sounds, especially because I** _ **hate**_ **it when others post Author's Notes by themselves and not part of the story. But I feel like I need to do this, to let you guys know that after a year, I** _ **haven't**_ **exactly given up on this story. My inspiration is still for it and I'm willing to continue it, but my writing has improved a lot in the past year and I don't want to go back to the slightly-crappier writing I did in early-ish 2015.**

 **So, view this as me telling you guys I'm going to make a rewrite.**

 **Don't ask me** _ **when**_ **, don't ask me** _ **how**_ **, but I do have the ideas of a rewrite in my mind. The idea itself is still kinda iffy, though, so don't expect my plans to be completely solid. Still, the idea for a rewrite is in place, and usually with me if I kick my own ass for something for a while, I'll do it. And I'm very talented in kicking my own ass, let me tell you…Sarcasm intended.**

 **I** _ **might**_ **have a rewrite out by the end of November this year. No promises, the** _ **might**_ **is very real in this case. But I truly enjoyed writing the prologue for this story, and I kinda feel like I owe you guys for my crappy-ass updates on my other active story on here, anyways, so this is part of my** _ **be-a-better-TGWSI-plan**_ **. That plan doesn't actually exist, by the way.**

 **Anyways, thanks for sticking around for however long you've stuck around with me. Whether it was from the** _ **very, very**_ **beginning, or even just when this story came out or even later than that. Seriously. You guys are awesome. =P So, I think you guys deserve for this to be made into a rewrite.**

 **Sincerely,**

 **~TGWSI**


End file.
